Observationaly Discerning
by Scavenge-4-Dreams
Summary: Part 9 of 'As Easy As...' Tony is attacked while alone in the tower. Slash. Note - This is a self-challenge. Write 25 sentences, each with one word less. Enjoy.
1. Proceed

He wandered the corridors aimlessly, too tired to work, too exhausted to sleep, alone at the midnight hour, tower deserted by all but he himself.

It wasn't that he didn't relish his solitude, he'd always worked best when left to his own devices, but having the team around was…nice.

He'd always said that alone didn't necessarily mean lonely, yet here he was, lonely just the same, in his big, empty, lonely tower.

He knew his team (family) had their responsibilities, but really, it had been weeks(!) since any of them had made it home.

Shaking his head at his own pathetic sleep deprived moroseness, he rounded the corner, intent on continuing his aimless meandering wallow.

The suddenness of the attack left him reeling, his assailant appearing like a wraith from the darkness, setting upon him.

Hands descended on him, pushing, pulling, forceful and vigorous, moving him bodily until his back met the nearest wall.

His bare skin dragged raw against the textured paint, but his soft gasp of pain was swallowed, stifled.

He pulled against the grip pinning his arms high, futility he knew, yet couldn't help but try.

Behind closed eyes his mind was fuzz and spark, unable to focus, yet unable to not.

His panting gasps for breath were loud, bubbling warm and wet, thin, needy and desperate.

Surrounded and without recourse he was helpless to escape the engulfing mass of heat.

A thigh slipped between his own, lifted, leaving his toes scrabbling for purchase.

A hand at the small of his back pulled, drawing him closer.

Soft lips abandoned his own, leaving a warm buzzing sensation behind.

Their new path wasn't exactly making breathing any easier, though.

A warm, wet trail of kisses down his throat.

His whimper was met with a sinful chuckle.

"You know I have a heart condition."

"It's called 'being in love', Tony"

"You're trying to kill me!"

"Trying to _love_ you"

"Right. Well. Proceed."

Steve laughed.

Sigh :)


	2. There's Something About Tony

At first Steve wasn't sure what had disturbed him, all he was really aware of was that _something_ was trying _really_ hard to drag him from peaceful slumber and Steve _really_ didn't want to go.

Then the bedcovers rustled agitatedly, the slide of silk on cotton, and a distressed hiccup sounded from somewhere to his right and Steve was immediately, and completely awake.

Tony was shifting around weakly, Steve could feel him fighting against the tangled covers under the weight of his arm, and his heart ached at the shallow, gasping whimper that echoed loudly in the consuming darkness. Deducing a nightmare, no doubt featuring the breath stricken feelings of terror that the incident earlier that day, (yesterday?) would no doubt have caused, Steve moved, half blind in the dark, to free his lover of the blankets and pull Tony from his dream with quiet soothing words and gentle touches.

He lifted his arm and Tony immediately scrambled backwards and away, quiet, strangled, _terrified_ cries becoming louder and more hysterical as he freed himself and retreated into a tiny huddle against the headboard. Steve stared, flabbergasted into the darkness as his eyes fought to adjust.

Rubbing his eyes, the captain blinked, and blinked again. He sat back on his haunches, no longer reaching for his obviously distraught lover. Without looking away, Steve said aloud, "JARVIS – lights on-" His eyes focused and his mind confirmed that he really was seeing what he thought he'd been seeing and he continued without missing a single beat "– Patch me through to Bruce immediately"

Evidently, JARVIS had heard the urgency in the request as he didn't even answer, instead Bruce's groggy voice filled the room seconds later, becoming more alert as he spoke "Steve? What's going on? Do I need a first aid-kit? Is it Tony?" Steve, still staring at his furiously shaking lover, yet making no move to offer comfort, answered in a slightly shaky vice, "Uh. You could say that. No-no first aid-kit, I don't think. Just- I need you up here _right now._ "

Even Steve could hear how completely freaked out he sounded, so it didn't surprise him that Bruce didn't ask anything else, however much he must have wanted to. Bruce was likely very familiar with the sound of someone pushed right over into _desperate_ , and the only thing that could push Steve Rogers - _Captain America-_ in _any way_ was Tony Stark.

Taking into consideration that the elevator was supposed to be a four minute transit on its own, let alone the necessary walk time between floors, Bruce arriving at the penthouse door three minutes later was something of an achievement. JARVIS slid the door open, and Bruce hurried in, passing through the kitchen and living area and into the bedroom, looked past an _absolutely shattered_ Steve half crouched on the end of their bed, to Tony Stark and every thought in his head fled for sheer sanity.

On the bed, curled against the headboard in an obviously miserable ball of hysterical gasping sobs, was Tony. His eyes were huge and round and red rimmed, blown so wide with terrified despair they appeared almost black. His hands where clutched to his chin and his lips were red and already bruising where he was viciously biting them, trying to (very unsuccessfully) suppress the body shaking tears that still slipped over and charted glistening paths down pale cheeks, lingering on eyelashes and gathering at the apex of his jaw, before sliding off into the unknown.

Not sure how they were seeing what they were seeing, Steve stared, Bruce stared. Brown eyes that usually held such _love, adoration, and respect_ when they looked upon their soul match, emanated only _fear, apprehension and distress_ as they stared at Steve, unblinking from behind a curtain of dark rioting curls that cascaded across his face and disappeared in curly wisps at chin length. Tony's whole body gave a head to toe shudder as he half hiccupped/half whimpered and Bruce's heart broke as he approached the bed, dropping to his knees with his hands clearly visible when Tony eyed him warily.

" _You're okay_ \- _you're_ … _Tony?_ " That garnered nothing, no recognition, no flinch, just a blank stare and Bruce had a heart stopping moment, despite already knowing – and had to ask, "Anthony Stark?" and Tony gasped and finally, finally drew his damning gaze away from Steve to focus on Bruce – an instant passed, and Bruce knew he was being judged – a tiny nod was his approval. "Do you know who I am?" Bruce asked.

It seemed to take Tony a moment to think the question over, which alarmed Bruce more than anything else. Until Tony shook his head in the negative and Bruce winced as he recognised a fearful spark in brown eyes, as if waiting to be found disappointing.

So he answered calmly, voice as soft and soothing as possible, "That's okay. I'm Bruce – I know this is strange, and scary huh?" And Bruce _knew 100%_ that this _was Tony_ when he got a slightly haughty eyebrow and a tiny shake of the head in response, despite the still lingering tears and wild eyed glances at the still _gutted_ Steve over his shoulder.

And it probably said a lot about Bruce's life over the past few years that he could take this situation and just run with it. "Okay. You don't remember, so I'll tell you. You've been in an accident and its hurt your memories-" Bruce heard Steve's strangled wheeze behind him and he felt for the man, but there was no way they could tell Tony the truth- absolutely no way possible.

Drawing his attention firmly back to Tony, Bruce watched with almost stunned disbelief at how quickly Tony thought over the explanation, tilted his head and then nodded. So gullible! Except, looking at the bright eyes that were no longer clouded with the impenetrable fear of uncontrollable hysteria, Bruce wondered if Tony had ever truly been gullible.

Openly smiling in approval, Bruce continued, "You live here with us and we are your friends - " something passed over Tony's face, some form of disbelief or suspicion, that made Bruce want to turn green, but it was gone before he could even think to comment, let alone do so. Instead he went on, "You've already met Steve- "

Rather eagerly, Steve took a large step forward. Before immediately backing away, a near broken look crossing his face when Tony immediately shied away in reawakened fear, as if he suddenly remembered that Steve was still in the room, his curiosity having overcome the fear. But that curiosity was gone now and he threw himself at Bruce, plastering himself against the other man, easily as much of a 'stranger' as Steve and yet – accepted.

Arms wrapped tightly about the body plastered to his side, Bruce looked down at Tony, unable to see his face where it was buried in the shoulder of his shirt, but easily able to detect the fine tremors of _real fear that_ wracked his body. Despite feeling terrible for Steve, Bruce knew that his first attention had to be to Tony. And Tony, _this Tony_ was apparently terrified of Steve, enough so that he got hysterical when confronted by him.

Bruce mouthed an "I'm sorry" at Steve, and Steve backed away, answering with a soft, "Go" before he disappeared into the bathroom. Bruce kicked himself when Steve's voice reawakened the subsiding trembling and he felt wet heat soaking into his shirt.

Leaning back a little, he focused more intently on his friend, a gentle hand rubbing over the quacking shoulders beneath a too large shirt. Speaking softly, the physicist said, "I'm sorry. He's gone now. Shh, it's okay, I'm here. Nothing's going to hurt you. Just take a deep breath – that's it. Shhh. "

Eventually the trembling ceased and Bruce was rewarded with a shaky sigh and a quick peek of drooping brown eyes before he said, "How about you and I go somewhere else?" he got a tiny relieved nod and felt Tony's hands fist in his collar in longing for a second before he started to reluctantly pull back.

* * *

 _And then the author stopped, stepped away from the computer, cracked her knuckles and stretched. The above is an excerpt of an actual fic I am slowly working on, utilised as part of my challenge work. Taken from Chapter one (There's something about Tony), this is the same fic as the snippet used in my first challenge trio – with missing Tony – Hopefully I'll get around to finishing it and posting someday, so you can all read it rather than giving me the stink eye for teasing you with titbits like this_ _J_


	3. Not The Intended Victim

Clint slunk down the corridor, stooped low beside the windows to hide from view; he knew she would be out there somewhere, close by. Out there, likely biding her time, just lulling him into showing himself, then she'd strike- like some toxic viper from the gloom. She'd set upon him, her copper tresses lit by moonlight to form her fiery crown, perfectly befitting their princess of destruction.

She'd sit on him, digging those pointy knees into his ribs, before she'd undoubtedly tickle him, her bony fingers tunnelling into his soft flesh. Only when he'd succumbed to her torture would she hit him with the big guns –their implement of choice for the evenings skirmish.

He hoiked his own supply of their chosen firepower closer, protecting it from the possibility of theft. He knew from experience just how low the Widow would stoop. Such unscrupulous conduct wouldn't be dismissed if required to complete her mission.

The God of Thunder might be somewhere in the firefight too, but Clint didn't feel Thor levelled closely enough with the Widow to be truly risky, mostly due to how Thor sounded like "numerous bilgesnipes humping" whenever he tried to 'tiptoe' through the tower. Clint knew Thor's current hiding spot to be under the sink in the rec room. How the god somehow squished himself into the tiny hole, Clint did not need to know.

Steve's work for SHIELD wouldn't be done until sometime in the evening, so Clint didn't feel the need to be checking over his shoulder for their iconic hero, who would likely _not_ support their new…exercise drill.

Bruce refused to join in, on the proviso of the exercise being not only stupid, but perilous.

Which sounded like the perfect enticement for Tony.

Who'd been stuck in meetings since buttfuck before sunrise.

They knew.

They'd been forced to listen to the grumbling, the whinging for- forever!

Tony would love this opportunity to unwind.

But the poor prick would be stuck in those meetings till well beyond dinner.

Clint shrugged. Sucked for Tony.

Some noises from the next room, or the corridor, suddenly broke through Clint's musing.

She'd come for him! He knew it! No one else it could be… Kind of loud for the spy of course, but likely purposefully so, to trick him.

He stole closer to the door, lifted his gun, set his sights-

Three, two, one-

SffHfffshOOOOOO! Mist billowed out of the nozzle, shooting through the opening door, to surround, before engulfing, the unlucky victim.

Who did not sport lovely red locks, nor the golden blonde of their Norse god.

Tony looked bemused. Or Clint supposed the look could might, somehow, possibly be misinterpreted for surprise. Shock even. Or on second look- it did seem curiously like the expression of retribution, or-

Tony's nose crinkled.

His eyes widened. Glistened. Welled.

He drew further out into the corridor, trying to elude the lingering mist.

His tongue snuck out, wetting over his lips, they slightly trembling.

Then- Tony sneezed.

Clint sniggered.

Tony sneezed.

Clint snorted.

Tony sneezed.

Clint chort-

Tony's eyes widened, this time with true terror, Clint's merriment died.

"Get Bru-"

Then the coughing commenced.

The deep gut wrenching coughs of someone not getting enough oxygen, loose, with no control or relief.

His skin turned bright red, botchy over his cheeks but grey by the corners of his mouth. His eyes were rolling, wide, yet unfocused in their sockets.

Clint screeched for Bruce, pulling Tony to his side when he reeled frighteningly.

Coughing, wheezing, hissing puffs of not enough.

"Shit, shit- fuck. Tony- just. God, I don't know how to help. You need to bre- "

Clint suddenly found himself on the other side of the room.

He turned to see Steve in his previous position beside Tony, ushering his lover into the next room, the kitchen, to the sink.

Clint didn't know how he'd missed Steve getting home, but didn't ponder on it too much, deciding to just be relieved.

Steve would know how to fix his fuck up.

Just to be sure though, Clint followed them into the kitchen.

Tony, perched on the stone top bench, seemed to be doing slightly better. Less wheezing.

Must be Steve's gentle tending.

Squeezing excess moisture from the cloth held tight in his fist, Steve pressed the cup of refreshing cool liquid to Tony's spluttering lips, while wiping the wet cloth over his eyes, flushing the effects of the stinging mist from them.

Tony's lungs seemed to settle, his wheezing gentling into infrequent soft huffs, unwinding from his tense, unnerved condition.

The return of Tony's composure seemed to spell the loss of Steve's.

Seeing the flinty eyes Steve suddenly turned in his direction, Clint determined he possibly should've gone to hide in the gym, or under Bruce's bed. Definitely not done the right thing by sticking with the friend he'd tried to kill.

Steve looked –

 _Fury, terror, worry, disbelief, incredulity, suspicion, protectiveness._

Definitely time to cunningly skulk in the direction of the doo-

"I know one of your ridiculous schemes when I see one, Clint! Tony is, he's- His lungs-! Were you trying to kill him?! If you'd just think every so often- " Steve yelled.

So, Clint knew he likely deserved some form of rebuke, but Steve _yelling…_ kind of mortifying. He never would've fired if he'd known.

So, possibly not telling the truth there, but- still, the _yelling._

Clint didn't need to defend himself though.

Tony did it for him, through wheezy huffs, "Hey- Ste- Hey! I'm fine- well, fine _ish_. Just give me two. It's not Clint's- no, seriously! Oh don't look- Fine. You tried to kill me Clint. You suck. There. "

Clint looked sheepishly to the ground, muttering, "Sorry".

Tony grinned, "Now you're forgiven. Time to move on. Come on lover, I need to get these clothes off-"

"I just remembered where Thor's hiding- I'd better just-." Clint employed his best cunning skulking skills to sidle out the door, feeling Steve's eyes following his progresses but hoping the lure of soon-to-be-nude Tony would be enough to convince the super soldier to let his focus of his ire go.

He guessed so, seeing how he sidled into the corridor still in one piece with no one in pursuit.

Figuring he'd better go find Thor, to help support his excuse if he needed to sometime in the future, Clint turned-

SffHfffshOOO!

The princess of destruction shook out her fiery crown before stepping over her victims shuddering, spluttering corpse, continuing on her mission of conquering her tower dominion.

* * *

In the kitchen, Tony used the timely diversion Clint's exit produced to slip the little cylinder out of his pocket, setting the tin of pest killer on the counter behind him.

Possibly not his brightest moment, deciding to join in with the evenings bonding exercise.

No need for Steve to know, though.

* * *

A/N

Okay - this was possibly the hardest of the three challenges - and still great fun.

If you think you've worked out what makes it special please leave a comment - you might win yourself a gift ficlet! *Something Valentines day inspired? Something light and fluffy? An angst riddled/rip your heart out fic?*

I had a ball, and hope that you enjoyed... If anyone would like to see another attempt (*I may have an idea*) or something similar please comment :)

Also - No beta used, and while I did my best, I really appreciate any help with glaring errors to make my stories better.

And as always - Happy Reading ;)


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